


Killing Mr. Reyes?

by BedwardWriter



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Aromantic Asexual Christine Canigula, Bisexual Jeremy Heere, Fluff and Humor, Gay Michael Mell, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Murder, Mutual Pining, Tags May Change, im not great at this, the squip is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 01:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BedwardWriter/pseuds/BedwardWriter
Summary: Jeremy is visited at home by a mysterious stranger, calling himself a 'Squip'. The Squip enlists Jeremy and Michael (and eventually Christine) to do him a favour in exchange for helping them become popular.Sounds good in theory, right?Except for the fact that The Squip is asking for them to kill their drama teacher.





	Killing Mr. Reyes?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope you like this, I've got a few plans for the fic and I'm really excited to keep writing aha

An empty room. Eerily quiet. The girl looks around. Left, then right. Geez, this movie is more intense than Jeremy thought it would be. A light flickers above her. His breath catches. Music starts, suddenly rising into a crescendo. He can faintly hear a doorbell ringing. A doorbell?

 

“Get the door, son,” Jeremy's dad yells at him through the wall. He pauses the film with a sigh, though he has an idea who is at the door and he isn't mad about it.

 

Climbing the stairs two-at-a-time, Jeremy reaches the door. “Hey, Michael,” he says as he swings it open.

 

Wait. It isn't Michael.

 

“Jeremy Heere,” the figure states loudly. How did he know his name? Jeremy notices the stranger's dark clothing, vibrant blue eyes, and the fact that he looks vaguely like that guy in the matrix...

 

“Uh. Yeah?” He asks, his eyes moving from side to side suspiciously.

 

The stranger smirks. “I am a Squip.”

 

Jeremy frowns. This guy needs to get off his porch as soon as possible.“...ok?”

 

“A Squip. I need your help.”

 

 

 

The 'Squip' sits at the table in Jeremy's kitchen, while Jeremy himself makes tea for the both of them. How grown-up of him. His dad would be proud if he could bother to get out of bed.

 

“So. Uh. Who are you again?” Jeremy asks as he finds a few mugs in a long-forgotten cupboard.

 

“A _Squip_.” he responds, as if it is obvious.

 

Jeremy shrugs. “I've just never heard of it before.”

 

“Well, not very many have. You are one of the lucky few.”

 

Pouring hot tea into each mug, he asks, “Why are you here, though?”

 

“Because I need you to do something for me. Because you need me to do something for me.”

 

“How can I need you if I don't even know what you do?” He exclaims, accidentally spilling some tea as he gestures his hands wildly.

 

As Jeremy sets both half-filled cups down, the Squip replies, “I felt that you were in desperation. I just knew that I needed to help you.”

 

“Help me do what, exactly?” Jeremy asks, barely suppressing his anger. He's not some useless kid in need of defending.

 

The Squip picks up his cup, taking an excruciatingly slow sip of the tea. His face twists into disgust as he set it back down. Turns out Jeremy needs more practice at tea-making.

 

“Help you to be _chill_.”

 

“I'm already chill!”

 

The Squip laughs. “No. No you're not.”

 

“Well,” Jeremy says with eyebrows knotted in confusion. “How would you know? I literally just met you twenty minutes ago!”

 

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy...”

 

“Yeah?”

 

The Squip sighs with exasperation. As if he's the one who has a right to be exasperated. “There's so much you don't know..”

 

“I know!”

 

“I.. I've been watching you for the past year.”

 

This time Jeremy actually spills his tea completely, as the mug smashes after hitting the table. “You've been What?!”

 

“Not in a creepy way, though, Jeremy. I can assure you of that.”

 

“Uh huh. How?” He cant even bear to look at this random stranger who has suddenly admitted to stalking him. He stares at the shards of broken mug instead, his eyes burning with a furious side he has almost never saw in himself.

 

The Squip turns his head round in a conspiratorial manner. “Now, you can't tell anyone about this.”

 

Jeremy looks up at him. “Sure thing, asshole.”

 

“Hey!” The Squip looks hurt.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“I work for the government, Jeremy. Well. Worked.”

 

Jeremy raises his eyebrows. He certainly wasn't expecting that. “Ok..”

 

“And I was employed to watch over your school. Just as there is a spy in every other American high school, just keeping an eye on you teenagers.”

 

“Wait. In- In _every_ school?” Jeremy asks. Is he the first to be told this?

 

“Again, Jeremy. This is highly confidential. If this gets out I will be forced to kill both of us.”

 

“Oh my GOD,” Jeremy exclaims. Is this guy even real?!

 

The Squip shrugs. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

 

“Wait. So you _worked_ at my school?”

 

He nods. “That is correct. You remember-”

 

“Wait a minute! Mr. Morris?!” Jeremy vaguely remembers that one computing science teacher that literally never showed up to class, yet somehow always had something to say in the school newspaper.

 

“That's me,” The Squip says, smiling sadly.

 

Jeremy sits up in his chair. “So what happened, Mr. Morris? And ..why do you call yourself a Squip?”

 

“Squip is my legal title. I earned that name in the army, you know. And I was fired.”

 

“Yeah, I heard that. Sorry.” And Jeremy is sorry. He really misses that extra free period on a Tuesday afternoon.

 

“Don't be. I literally spent all my time gossiping in the teachers' lounge. I saw it coming.” He says all this, but there is a regretful tone in his voice.

 

“I just don't understand why you came here, though. I've never even met you in person before.”

 

“Well, I've heard things about you. I know you need my help. Your social standing obviously isn't the highest. You're upset about this, yes?”

 

Jeremy feels his cheeks burn. He knows this, and doesn't care to be reminded of it. “I-I guess so.”

 

“Well I can help!” The Squip cries.

 

Jeremy frowns and sits back in his chair. “How? And why?”

 

“Well. You know of the new drama teacher?”

 

“Mr. Reyes? Yeah. I'm in the school play,” He says, remembering those lines he needs to learn before the weekend is out.

 

The Squip smiles excitedly. “I know you are! And I also know that this Mr. Reyes has replaced me in my role of School Squip.”

 

“Damn. You serious?” Jeremy wonders if he is being too gullible. This could easily be a prank, or a scam. Why isn't he more careful? Yet again, this guy does seem to know an awful lot about him. Could it be true?

 

“I am deadly serious. All the time. But I also know that Mr. Reyes has some- eh- personal motives.”

 

“What does that mean?” Jeremy asks, leaning forward in anticipation.

 

The Squip leans in as well, so they are almost touching over the table and spilled tea.

 

“I was in the army with your drama teacher-”

 

Jeremy gasps. “Mr. Reyes was in the army?!”

 

“Obviously. And we were friends, though all he talked about was his dream to make it to Broadway.”

 

“Well, he does talk about getting to Broadway a lot.”

 

The Squip nods sadly. “He mentioned to me several times about manipulating his power, using you children to work his way into fame. I'm frankly surprised he was even allowed in your school.”

 

“So,” Jeremy turns his head to the side. “You're saying that we need to... fire Mr. Reyes?”

 

“No!” The Squip's eyes are aflame with blue fire as he says, “We need to kill him!”

 

Jeremy's head snaps up. “I'm not going to kill my drama teacher!”

 

He seriously considers the fact that he may have let a criminal into his house.

 

“Come on, Jeremy! You help me kill this guy, I help you gain popularity!”

 

“No! I am _definitely_ not going to do that!”

 

Just as The Squip looks at Jeremy with a defeated stare, the doorbell rings.

 

Jeremy stands, walking to his porch and slamming the kitchen door in his wake. Luckily, Michael waits for him outside.

 

“Hey, bro!” Michael yells as he walks past Jeremy.

 

Jeremy turns to face him, scratching his head as he tries to think of a good way to explain the situation. “Yeah, um. Do you mind coming into the kitchen with me? There's something I need to show you.”

 

“Oh.” Michael's interest peaks. He raises his eyebrows.

 

Jeremy blushes once again. “Nothing like that, you creep.”

 

His friend laughs as he follows Jeremy into the kitchen. The Squip sits, bored.

 

“Hello, boys. I don't think we've met, Michael,” He drawls as he holds out a hand.

 

Michael ignores the hand and lets it fall limply. “Who is this, Jeremy?” He asks, his voice quivering as he turns slowly to his best friend.

 

“He says he's Mr. Morris. You know the Computing teacher that never showed last year?”

 

“I mean. He could be.” Michael admits, though his eyes are still narrowed.

 

“And. Uh. He wants us to kill Mr. Reyes.”

 

“The drama teacher?!”

 

The Squip raises his hand. “Hold on. I only said I would help Jeremy. Michael doesn't need to get involved at all!”

 

Jeremy and Michael look at each other in silent agreement. “Michael's in it, or I'm not. We're a team.”

 

“Yeah!” Michael adds, and they both do their intricate handshake together. The Squip watches them in confusion.

 

“Fine. Losers.” The Squip sulks, folding his arms. He must hate not getting his own way.

 

Jeremy whispers, “He's just jealous” to Michael who starts sniggering.

 

The Squip rolls his eyes. “Of you two? And that dumb handshake? Never.”

 

“Uh huh,” Jeremy says in joking tones.

 

The Squip stamds up and pulls a card out of his coat. It is imprinted with his details-

 

Mr. Keanu Morris, SQUIP

 

email: [keanumorris@sony.com](mailto:keanumorris@sony.com)

 

“You kids email me as soon as possible, ok?”

 

Michael is found staring at the Squip's face. “Your name is Keanu?!”

 

“Yes. Good to see how observant you are, Mr. Mell,” The Squip gave him a cold stare. Jeremy found it hard to believe the name wasn't an alias.

 

“Ill be on my way now, boys. See you soon, I hope.”

 

With that, he fled the kitchen (and house) with a flick of his long, cape-like coat. How Extra.

 

After the hear the distinctive bang of the front door closing, both boys turn to each other, in unison swearing, “What the Fuck?!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it? Leave kudos or a comment if you feel like it! Thanks so much for reading, though. You're great.


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